


Return to Ravenloft, a Curse of Strahd story

by YouwillRuetheday



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Curse of Strahd, Dark, F/M, Humor, Main OC not from any canon settings, Romance, not a retelling of a campaign
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouwillRuetheday/pseuds/YouwillRuetheday
Summary: A young woman finds herself in a forgotten land shrouded in mists and mystery unsure of how or why she is in such a cursed place. However, this just might be the escape she needed.(I am bad at summaries.)





	1. Chapter 1

_It wasn't supposed to be like this._ I watched as the priest before me, Davan Withers who had raised me and did his damnedest to keep me from going down this dark path, slump dead on the ground. My dagger accompanied him as I dropped it, speechless. As if the moment couldn't get any worse, the front doors of the church burst open, and a few guards shouted at me. I couldn't process what they said, and I didn't need to. They caught a glance at me standing over a freshly dead body, a clergyman no less, red-handed. If it weren't so fucked up, I would have started laughing. Maybe I could plead insanity? 

No, only the lordlings get to do that. 

Without a second thought, I burst out running in the opposite direction despite the guards calls for me to halt. As if I were in any position to listen to their guidance! The stench of a set-up permeated the situation as I pushed through a set of doors that led to the innermost sanctum where Davan would prepare his sermons. I slammed the door shut behind me and lowered the bar to keep the guards out. The door could buy me some time to think. What had gone so wrong? I could hear shouting in the back of the church, and I knew of no hidden spaces in this office. Davan never kept secrets from me. The guards beat on the door jostling me from my thoughts, but it wouldn't give under conventional means. Davan had told me this church was built during the times when an undead god would regularly wage war against the living. Nearly all of the doors of the church are heavy and fortified; they could last through men trying to tear them down with their fists.

But these men were not the undead. They were living. Breathing.  **Thinking.** Soon they would break in, and who knows what would happen to me? _Alexandra Withers, known delinquent murders own father._ _What a great headline! I wonder if they will put that on my tombstone. Execution though? Unlikely_. I'd be sent to work in the salt mines for the rest of my days. I'm still young and only in my mid-twenties. The thought of my age, however, brought me to the topic of my looks. There was a chance they might try to do something  _else_ with me, though the thought of it made me want to vomit. I was a bit on the scrawny side, but men eerily always liked to comment on my good looks. My dark, medium length hair seemed to  _beg_ the touch of men, and my eyes and lips were mentioned continuously upon by the creepier of them. My eyes, in my opinion, were sharp enough to slice men apart, but perhaps they were into that sort of thing. My lips were not unusually full, and yet I find some men staring at them. Thankfully my sunkissed skin seemed to be a turn-off for a majority of the lordlings who may've attempted to turn me into a mistress of theirs. The only rules I ever obeyed from Davan was in dressing more conservatively, not that it helped much with these unwanted advances. A massive, dark brown cloak that hung as long as my hips hid not only my small figure but the tools of my trade, various pockets for my pickpocketed goods, and of course my daggers. 

I left an excellent dagger out there in the pews along with the body of my surrogate father. I lifted it off some nosy adventurer who had come questioning my father a few weeks ago. I couldn't hear the questions exchanged between them, but I could tell that Davan stressed after the interaction. The dagger was silvered too. There may not be much undead that walk among us today, but there was the odd necromancer or two who showed up attempting chaos. 

 **BANG! BANG!** The blokes at the door must've had a battering ram delivered to them. I cursed to myself over and over.  **BANG! BANG!** The sound echoed around me rhythmically.  

So this is how my story ends? I'll never get to steal the most elegant wines or swindle dumb adventurers from their mountains of gold. I'll never obtain a fortune enough to share with the orphans of the church... or achieve a sizeable harem either. I pulled a waterskin from within the depths of my cloak and took a swig. There was still one person left to talk to in this sorry world. 

I opened my satchel, which contained my papers, a neverending ink pen, a decoy coin purse stuffed with chocolate monies, and a leatherbound journal. I learned long ago that the journal was left along with me when I was abandoned on the church steps. Davan gifted it to me once I was old enough to read and write, as the pages were empty. However, when I opened it, there was a message left for me. I couldn't understand it, the script was quite flowery, but when I showed Davan, he laughed. He thought I was playing make-believe! As I came of age, I learned that only I could read this journal.

Hastily I used my pen to write a goodbye message to my mysterious friend. 

>  Luca, I must bid you farewell. The last job didn't go so great. I just wanted to tell you thank you. 

_Short and sweet._ I closed the journal in a gesture of finality. I felt too embarrassed to admit that I got completely caught out, maybe even involved in some conspiracy. Not that it mattered anymore. I was as good as dead. Just as I wondered if Davan kept any spirits hidden in this office, the door came crashing down. That's when I saw him. That adventurer who wouldn't leave my father alone. He walked into the room with a grim air about him with his hands folded behind his back. I wondered how quickly I could cut him before all the guards reacted. They filed into the room slowly and spread out. 

"Not only a thief but also a murderer?" The adventurer shook his head at me. Feeling judgmental I studied this guy's face as he seemed to wax poetically at me. Aside from how badly I wanted to punch him, this guy was a 'fair' rating on the handsome scale. Short, kept brown hair, and he seemed to have a clean chin. It made it hard to judge his age, but given the age expectancy of adventurers, he was likely my age or younger. The young man was quite pale too but caused me to wonder if he was the son of some lord or merchant. "Now..." I hadn't heard a word he said, but he sounded like he might make me an offer of some kind. I listened in. "Do you have the necklace or not?"

"Huh?" I blinked stupidly but instinctively reached into my pocket under cover of my cloak. I felt out the strange necklace that Davan had died over. The necklace seemed to be a silver chain with a sun symbol that hung freely from it. The points of the sun felt jagged in my hand. I couldn't help but rub the fine points against my thumb, almost testing to see if it would cut me. I had only recently acquired this property from Davan for a shadowy broker. "I don't wear any necklaces as you can plainly see." I lifted my chin up and showed him my bare neck for good measure. He scoffed.

"Don't toy with me,  _girl_ ," The young man shook his head, almost like a disappointed father. I bet Davan would've done the same. "Hand over the necklace and all your troubles will be erased... I'll even let you keep this." In a flash, he had thrown the dagger at the ground between my feet. It struck true and stuck out from the wooden floor. 

I narrowed my eyes, "I'll have you know that Father Davan recently had this floor polished."

"Yet he lies dead, hmm?"  _Low blow..._ My grimace at his words gave me away. "Please Alexandra, hand over the necklace you stole from Father Davan, and you won't have to deal with the fallout of your actions."

Before I could respond, the air in the room turned to a sudden chill. I could not be more thankful to be wearing my heavy cloak and long pants then. A mist seemed to form from thin air and swirled all around us as if we were in the eye of a tornado. 

Or instead with me at the center. 

I could hear the men screaming in fear and confusion. The mysterious adventurer shouted at me, but I could not understand his words. His sounds deafened as he stood on the other side of the mist from me. I took the silvered dagger he flung at me and held it outwards as I clutched my journal with my free hand. With this strange event, I could fight back! The men would have landed on their asses, and I might be able to make a break for the door. I hopped to my feet and carefully slid my journal back into my satchel.

As suddenly as the mist appeared, it vanished, dispersing all around me. At first, I couldn't tell if I was just disorientated or dead. I stood before large, ominous gates.

No. That did it little justice.

The gates before me were incomprehensibly large. Perhaps 30 or 40 meters up. The stone that comprised the structure must've been some of the oldest stone I had ever seen. It seemed to predate even Davan's church. The flora seemed to be in the midst of reclaiming the gate as its own. Lush ivy crept up from the ground and surrounded either end of the gate. Even a cursory inspection led me to believe that the bushes and trees that seemed to line up all too perfectly on either side of me were too dark and thick to move past. 

Last I checked the sun was out, and it was a sunny, happy day despite the ongoings of my life. Looking up I could only see an overcast sky with no hint of where in the clouds the sun could be hiding. Had I been teleported somewhere else?  _Wait! Perhaps...!_

Hastily, I pulled out my journal once more and found where I had left off with my friend Luca. I couldn't believe my eyes as I read what he had replied.

> Alexandra, this is not yet your time. I don't understand the circumstances you have found yourself in, but I am glad you thought of me. I hope that by the time you are reading this then my efforts have reached you. I cannot come to you yet, but march forth through the ancient gates to the west and continue down the road until you find yourself in a village. Find the tavern and wait for me there. Do not venture into the woods. Do not venture off the roads. And do not talk to any strangers.
> 
>  
> 
> Welcome to Barovia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am DMing this game, but am quite sad that it means I will likely never get to play in this campaign. The remedy, of course, is to just write something out. I don't know how many readers are in this D&D fandom of AO3, but I hope the few of you who do find it enjoy it. I appreciate comments, kudos, and feedback. 
> 
> The story here will not follow Curse of Strahd play by play, as it is my own take on things. That said, there will still be location, NPC, and some plot spoilers surrounding Curse of Strahd, in case that worries you.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

"Barovia...?" I looked from the journal to the gates before me, then back. Had Luca cast a spell and brought me to some unknown country? I had never heard of a Barovia in my life, nor had he ever made mention of it. With a frown, I left him a message.

> What do you mean welcome to Barovia? How far am I from Canrein?

I waited quite awhile but never received a reply. Luca would sometimes take his time writing back even if he had just left me a message, so I chalked it up to that annoying trait. At least I was safe, for now, though of course, I could probably never show my face back in Canrein. My thoughts turned to the scene I had just left. Father Davan dead by the pews and a whirlwind that miraculously appeared to sweep me away to Barovia. _Wherever that is!_ As much as I valued my life, and yes I felt thankful for my change in predicament, I hated the unknown most of all. Not knowing what was going on, where I was, and, now I realize, not even who I owe my continued existence to. Who was Luca precisely that he could've taken me away from that situation? He never spoke about being a magic user. Should I assume this was his homeland? He said he would come to greet me in a tavern in a nearby village.

With a sigh of frustration, I took my first steps in this new land. As I walked through the gates, I noted how dreary everything looked. The forest beyond seemed gloomy and misty, like an eternal fog had drifted into the woods and never vacated. I traveled for some time in silence with only the sounds of nature to accompany me. Out of habit, I pulled my dark hair into my cloak and put my hood up. A woman traveling alone along a dirt path? Stories like that never tended to end well. Father Davan would have a fit if he knew what I was doing right now. I could almost hear his voice chiding me as the canopy above my head darkened under cover of branches reaching out for one another on this lonely road. 

"Alexandra, do you intend to give me a heart attack? My dear child, you must learn to take precautions. Strangers cannot be trusted, and you must always be escorted," he would have said. I rolled my eyes as I thought of his voice. Its quality was grainy, and his accent was foreign. I could never place it, and Davan never spoke about his past. I had heard he moved to Canrein as a young man and was taken in by the father of the church before him. Under his care, Davan spent time with many orphans, but I was the one he chose to adopt.

Regret grew as a pit in my stomach as I marched onward. After about an hour of walking, I thought I was going mad. There were no signs of life here aside from the woodland creatures scurrying around in the shade of the trees, far from the road. I felt utterly lost and pulled out my journal. Still no reply from Luca. 

That's when I smelled it. The smell of death. Accompanying the stench was the sound of silence. A moment before, the forest was alive, but now everything was at a standstill. I kept walking, but the stink became thick. Something, or someone, was left out here to rot. Whatever was dead had to be nearby. Instinctively, I pulled out the silver dagger I had stolen from that adventurer and held it at the ready. Just because the undead was no longer an issue in Canrein didn't mean Barovia couldn't have one. I was not going to be caught off-guard and killed by some undead wretch. 

I reached a point where the smell was the most potent it could have been, and I could feel the grasp of morbid curiosity take hold of me. I had to know what caused such a stink. An animal? An undead? A man? Despite my instincts, I went off the path. Luca was not here in the flesh to scold me like he could on paper, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Of course, the question was, would it hurt me? I was never much for following instructions to the letter.

Twigs snapped in my wake as I walked off the path, and I winced at the sound. It felt like my arrival echoed throughout the forest, which caused me to sweat a great deal despite the coolness of the air around me. It wasn't long before I found the body of a dead man. I'm no doctor, but I could see the inside of his throat. It seemed that some beasty did this poor man in. Instinctively, I put my palm near my chin and circled my face with it in prayer to Arcturus. Some habits were, figuratively, beat into me by my old man. I could see this dead man loosely holding an envelope in his hand and started to take it from him. 

Before I could even open the damn envelope, a wolf began to howl. I looked around myself, but couldn't see any sign of it. When my gaze went back to the man, I took in his torn clothing, his torn neck, and the look of desperate horror in his gray eyes. It was odd to think of wolves as man-eating, but I had no other evidence to go on. I wasn't going to hop from a life of imprisonment into my grave! So I took off running back toward the road. Another howl pierced through the woods as my foot made contact with the dirt path, and I pressed on as quickly as I could. Every 5 seconds, I could hear another round of howling, and their voices grew in number. As if the wolves were all signaling to each other that they have spotted their next prey - me!

After the fifth howl, I heard snarling from behind me and, like a fool, turned my head to look as I ran. What I saw was not typical. These were not regular wolves, but much larger monstrosities. There were 5 of these wolves that were the size of horses, and judging by how quickly they seemed to be closing the gap, they could outpace me just as quickly. I turned my head back to the road and kept running. Ahead of me, as if a sign from above, I could see the light at the end of this tunnel! The wolves nipped at the back of my knees, and I could feel their hot breath near my neck. 

With every bit of my effort, I pushed on despite the aching in my calves and the sting in my back. Soon, the canopy of branches opened up abruptly, and I was outside the forest. I did not stop running for several seconds until I realized I no longer felt the beasts at my back. I turned my head to look back first and saw the large wolves standing at the opening of the forest. Four of them were gray and seemed to be backing away from the entrance, finally disappearing back into the woods, but the fifth wolf, with dark black fur and red, piercing eyes, seemed to stare me down. It's gaze sent shivers down my spine, and I pulled my hood down over my face, though I wasn't sure why I did such a thing. It was a wolf, there was no intelligence to it, but it's red eyes continued to watch me from afar until after a few moments, it backed away, still looking upon me, and disappeared.

The black wolf's gaze left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I felt very much like I did back when Father Davan would tell me about the boogieman. Of course, I always asked him to regale me with such stories. I had a fascination with the morbid and strange, and Davan had a lot of stories to share. The boogieman, however, was particularly frightening. He had his eye on naughty children and watched them, and each evil deed you did would tally up. When you've done enough bad things, the boogieman will come to take you away. Even into my adolescence, which was when my career in thievery began, I sometimes checked under my bed worried that the boogieman would finally gobble me up. 


End file.
